


Keep Me Warm, Keep Me Safe and Sound

by ambersagen



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Chronic Pain, Fluff, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia-centric, Grumpy old man Geralt, Hurt/Comfort, Jaskier POV, Jaskier | Dandelion Takes Care of Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Mentions of Starvation, Minor Angst, Slow Burn, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Someone give that boy a backrub, THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED, Whining, all the Witchers are big babies, because Geralt is a cuddler, cuddle piles, feel good fic for taking care of unloved Witchers, just because they are strong doesnt mean they want to live like animals, winter comforts, witcher mutations
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:07:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28008951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambersagen/pseuds/ambersagen
Summary: It was almost alarming, Jaskier thought to himself, the amount of muttered curses and heavy sighs the Witcher produced.-Chaptered fic but most chapters stand alone as mini fics.)
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 7
Kudos: 64





	Keep Me Warm, Keep Me Safe and Sound

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anarchycox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anarchycox/gifts).



> *blows kiss*

Jaskier had been high on success all day. And who could blame him? He had experienced his first capital-A Adventure at the side of the infamous Geralt of Rivia, and had lived to tell his tale. 

And tell the tale he would, as often and as far and wide as he could manage it. 

Sure, the adventure had almost gone sideways and there had been quite a lot of guilt and pointed, passionate speeches that he had _not_ anticipated, but that didn't discount what actual action they had experienced pre-capture, and with a little artistic interpretation not only would his own reputation be protected, but so too would the Witcher's reputation be cleared and the nature and location of the elves' hideout further shrouded in mystery and rumors. All in all it was a win, and the excitement had carried him on light, though more than slightly bruised feet, all through the day as he followed his muse to wherever the next monster might be terrorizing innocent people. 

Said muse however, seemed perfectly uninterested in hiding just how done he was with travel for the day, or so Jaskier extrapolated from the Witcher's truly impressive and sudden sigh. 

"Enough of this day," Geralt grunted, breaking the silence of almost the last hour and pulling Roach to a halt as he scanned the area for gods only knew what. He nudged the horse over to the side of the path. "We'll make camp before we lose the light."

It was almost alarming, Jaskier thought to himself, the amount of muttered curses and heavy sighs the Witcher produced as he pulled packs off his beloved horse and began to brush her down for the night. Jaskier, wisely, said nothing of the complaints Geralt made about 'blasted heavy things', or the amount of small and prickly bushes that littered their campsite for the evening. Instead he opted to clear a spot for the fire and begin gathering wood.

It wasn't that he was wary of the Witcher, not exactly. Although his stomach could still feel the phantom ache of that punch he had been the unfortunate recipient of and he would be somewhat justified in any fear of the man. No, his silence and careful eye on his companion was more for practicality's sake. The key to inserting yourself into someone else's life is to be just useful enough that they won't ditch you in the middle of a forest to fend for yourself, and Jaskier had picked up any number of traveling skills in his time away from Oxenfurt, loath though he was to admit it. He didn't like getting splinters from random branches, or dust on his nice silks, or even aches in his muscles from walking all day (and really, what was the Witcher moaning so much over? He at least got to ride the last hours out of town. His feet weren't likely sporting blisters, although perhaps his ass was and that would really be a good excuse to carry on so, now that Jaskier considered it). 

A frustrated groan and the energetic snorting of a horse snapped Jaskier out of his musings. 

"Oh Roach," Geralt scolded, hand on his hip as he glared at the animal, who stared unfathomably back at him with big brown eyes. "How are you such a stinky beast even when I put so much effort into your care? Can't you shit somewhere further from camp?" He began kicking at whatever loose leaves were on the ground, and Jaskier winced at the sight, and smell, of the fresh horse pat far too close to where their packs rested for comfort. "Even you make my life more difficult, you ungrateful wretch."

His care and scolding of his mount complete Geralt began unpacking his cooking gear, giving an annoyed grunt as his knees cracked audibly when he bent over the pack. He frowned, and Jaskier wondered what the issue was now and whether he was really going to have to endure a whole evening of complaints when the Witcher straightened up, pulling what looked like a slingshot of all things out of the bag. 

"We need meat. Jerky will keep for another time. I'll be back when I find something. Or not." 

Jaskier nodded, giving an awkward wave when Geralt huffed at him, as if just as unsure if that was enough explanation for the human. 

"Be safe. I'll keep watch?" Jaskier offered, and this must have been satisfactory because the Witcher gave a sharp nod in return and stomped off into the forest. Shaking his head, Jaskier hoped Geralt wouldn't keep that up for longer than it took to get out of bard sight, or they would likely end up in the 'not' category of dinner. 

Huh. _There_ was a thought. There was no rule that said Jaskier couldn't do a little hunting of his own. 

Although his legs protested the effort the mind was willing, and he had soon fished out an edge worn and carefully wrapped book from his small pack. His copy of Eggbert's 'Field Guide to Wild Edibles of the Continent, 10th edition'. Thoughtfully he flipped the pages over until he found the local section. It should be easy enough. There was an hour or two of light left, and he wouldn't stray out of hearing distance of camp for the safety of Roach at least. 

A quick peek through the Witcher's bags proved fruitful and he soon had a small knife and bag for whatever he collected in hand. Making note of landmarks around the camp and the location of the sun he set out on his own search, in the opposite direction from where Geralt went off to. He didn't want to risk getting mistaken for something edible by a hungry and annoyed Witcher after all. He wondered if perhaps Geralt was more hungry than the average man would be, due to all that extra muscle. Or perhaps he was less hungry? Maybe his mutations slowed all those pesky needs down? He would bet on the former though, judging by the extreme case of grumps Geralt had left with. 

Jaskier pondered the mysteries of his new friend as he traced a grid pattern through the underbrush, stopping occasionally to check his guide or to harvest what he found. He focused on finding things for supper, although he did make a mental note of a few interesting flowers and leaves he came across in his search. It was always nice to see when an illustration worked perfectly to identify a plant, and Eggbert was a clever fellow who had included copious notes on identifying the real deal from a look-alike. 

He ended up beating his new friend back to camp, having returned with just enough light left to get the fire going and collect water from an extra water pouch that, he assumed from its placement with the cooking utensils, was intended just for cooking. With only a few minor stumbles (and a moment taken to make sure the horse patty was well and truly buried) he was set up and his prizes sorted through. 

It wasn't a bad spread, even if he did say so himself. Wild onion, asparagus, and some edible flowers all were set aside as he brought the small cooking pot full of water to a boil. He would wait to add them until after the Witcher returned with whatever game he had managed to find. He did add a bit of the onion to the water with a pinch of salt to get a weak broth started, but he didn't want to risk over cooking the other veg. 

He was just cutting up the remainder of their bread for toasting when Geralt returned, pausing at the edge of the campsite with obvious surprise. 

“You can cook?” The look the Witcher gave him was so intense Jaskier took a step back, involuntarily and with a defensive hand over his center.

“Yes? Cooking, uhh. It's a great way to stretch a student budget," the bard replied, feeling the prick of nerves as Geralt continued to bore a hole in his face with his eyes. "Uh, and I dated a baker, a herbalist, and numerous inn keeps and bar maids over the years. I know my way around a stew at the very least!” he babbled, like a fool no doubt, but unable to stop himself regardless of his self awareness. 

“Foraging?” Geralt's tone was impossible to decipher, but the words themselves didn't seem to hold any danger so Jaskier relaxed. Slightly. 

“If I can find it I can identify it." He confirmed, the flutter of nerves he had developed at the intense questioning turned into an all together different downright pleased look his Witcher gave him. "For obvious reasons I haven't had a lot of actual outdoor experience before now, but I haven't had any reason to doubt my knowledge so far.”

The Witcher considered this, tilting his head like a dog hearing a very interesting sound, and Jaskier cooed internally. The more time he spent with the Witcher the more almost adorable little quarks of his mutations popped up. 

Finally Geralt gave a long hmmm, and set the brace of rabbits he had been holding by the fire. “So if I gave you a list you could-“

“I could help you look, yes! Of course." Jaskier puffed up, unable to keep back the note of pride in regards to his knowledge. He had worked hard to educate himself on these things and was excited to be put to the test. "You’ve been so accommodating of me already and I would be honored to help wherever I can.”

Geralt's lips twitched up, an actual smile spreading and Jaskier felt that fluttering feeling return. Damn his romantic heart. “Settle bard. I don’t know that you need to be _honored_ ," he rolled his eyes and Jaskier huffed in faux indigence. "But assistance with supper and potions ingredients would be appreciated. I swear I spend half my time scraping enough together for a decent meal and then I’m too damned tired to care.”

'Ah, right. I can see how that might be trouble. I uh, can't imagine Witcher potions contain very common herbs."

"You would be right about that," Geralt said, casually taking the knife Jaskier had been using to harvest plants so that he could butcher the rabbits. "But don't worry. I wont make you scrape out drowner brains or harvest arachas venom any time soon. Best to start small. Deadly nightshade, things like that."

Jaskier straightened up slowly, eyes wide. Geralt said nothing, simply cutting up meat and adding it to the now boiling pot. 

"You're fucking with me," Jaskier said, amazed. "And after all I've done to make us a lovely dinner. It's a good thing you are pretty, Geralt of Rivia, or I might be offended."

"And it's a good thing you have the voice of a lark, or I would have gagged you miles back for those lyrics you've been fermenting." The Witcher's eyes wrinkled with laughter as Jaskier sputtered in outrage at his teasing. "Perhaps we will survive each other's company yet, being so forgiving."

"Hmm." Jaskier sniffed, resettling himself on his spot on the ground. It was starting to get a bit chill, but the fire in front of him was warm. Of course, it wasn't like a little friendly banter would be enough to warm him from the inside out, no way. He had a little more dignity than that, for certain. No matter how nice it was to see something other than a frown on his companion's face, or to hear teasing words rather than unhappy complaints about traveling. "I think I shall withhold judgment until after supper. Never make choices on an empty stomach, dear friend."

"Hmm. Friend huh." Geralt added the last of the rabbit to the soup, and tipped the bundle of foraged greens in along with it. 

Jaskier tilted his head a bit, looking at the Witcher discreetly. He had a distant look on his face, yellow eyes shining in the light of the campfire as dusk truly set in. He wondered how much those eyes had seen, how many friends come and gone in the long lifespan of a Witcher, especially one as tragic and infamous as Geralt of Rivia. The moment seemed too fragile to break, like a sleeping child who might at any moment be roused and wailing. His hands twitched anyway, restless at his side with the urge to reach out and touch the Witcher. 

"Been a while since had got one of those."

They said nothing else, each content to warm themselves by the fire as the scent of dinner slowly filled the air with a delicious aroma.


End file.
